


You think you’ve got everybody fooled, don’t you?

by Resacon1990



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Awesome Sheriff Stilinski, Depression, Derek Feels, Derek Needs a Hug, Fluff and Angst, Good Peter, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-24
Updated: 2013-08-24
Packaged: 2017-12-24 13:34:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/940572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Resacon1990/pseuds/Resacon1990
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You love my son, don't you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	You think you’ve got everybody fooled, don’t you?

* * *

**_You think you’ve got everybody fooled, don’t you?_ **

* * *

He follows Derek around like a puppy, an annoying over grown puppy that talks too much and moves too much and all round does _too much_ ,and Derek hates it. He hates how he looks at him with wide eyes and waits for his okay, waits for Derek to make the first move, waits for Derek to do _everything first_. He waits for Derek and never initiates anything, and he wants to scream at him, tell him to _figure it out for himself_ , to grow up and realise that he can wait all he wants but he's never going to get it. Because if there's one thing Stiles doesn't deserve to have lumped on him along with everything else, its Derek.

But he knows what Stiles will say if he tells him, that he'll call him an idiot and will slink back to the sidelines to start again and wait patiently for Derek's okay, for one of Derek's walls to break down. And Derek wants to _hit_ him for that, for that faith and loyalty and utter trust. He's stupid, and young, and he knows nothing of what it's like to put so much trust into one person only for that person to fail them, to prove they're stupid and crush that faith right in front of him.

He hates it even more when his pack approach him, asking questions about their relationship and he growls and snarls at them until they all start to whimper and cry in submission. 

"Just leave me alone," he cries as he storms up the stairs to the loft, refusing to turn around and see those pathetic eyes watching him, begging him to come back, asking for him to explain what's wrong. He wants to be left to himself, he wants to be isolated. He doesn't want them around at all to ask about Stiles, ask about the pack, ask about anything.

 _He doesn't want them_. _He doesn't want Stiles._

But he has to remind himself of that while he sits in his room, curled up in the corner and listening to the sounds of his dejected pack slowly leaving the building.

* * *

**_No matter how hard you try to deny it…_ **

* * *

He doesn't do it it often anymore, go out to his old house, but on the occasion he'll go and sit in the half destroyed building, despite the bad memories, and just _think_. 

This time though he doesn't go out to think, this time he goes out and trails his fingers over the burnt wood and rusted metal, not caring as his hands come away black and orange. It doesn't matter to him as he walks up the stairs, the creaks of the old wood harsh on his ears, and moves to each room.

Laura's is the only one that's still got half a roof, and he takes shelter in there from the brisk wind outside. He stands against the wall, his palms flat against the destroyed wood and closes his eyes.

He remembers the room being a sickening yellow, too bright for his eyes but Laura had loved it and she'd painted the windowsills, door, dressers, draws and bed all a pure white. " _Contrast, Derek_!" she'd said as she'd flick the paint at him where he'd been watching from the doorway, " _it's all about contrast! And smiles! And happiness! Everyone deserves happiness!_ " and he had rolled his eyes but his smile was affectionate. 

He'd hated this room, hated how bright it was but now if there was one thing, just _one thing_ he could rebuild of this house, it would this.

And he hates the emptiness he feels standing here. Standing where Stiles had once stood beside him and talked and talked for hours and convinced Derek that maybe the sunniness and brightness of this room could come back just if Stiles kept talking.

His eyes flicker open, and he looks around. The white is black, the yellow is black, everything is black and _burnt_ and Derek hates it more.

* * *

****_I can tell you care as much about him, as he cares about you._ ** **

* * *

"You need to go," he orders, his eyes not focusing on the kid huddling behind his back as they look out for any other attackers. He feels long fingers digging into his arms, the ones held behind him to bracket the kid in against the wall, and Stiles is shaking his head where it's pressed between Derek's shoulder blades.

"I can't, I can't leave you… any of you."

"You're a human, Stiles," Derek hisses and he flinches at the sound of a pipe skidding across the ground, echoing in the room, before taking another step back, crowding Stiles even further up against the wall. The kid lets out a small frightened whimper but he still shakes his head in protest.

"I can help, please Derek, just let me-"

"If you go anywhere that's not in the opposite direction of this place you're going to get _killed_ ," he snaps before letting out a loud growl, a mixture of warning to any threat out there and a call for Scott, who's _god knows where_ , or any one else from the pack that's close by.

Thankfully Stiles doesn't say anything in reply, just gives a jerky nod before clinging even tighter to Derek's jacket, as an answering call from Isaac echoes through the distillery they're in and the sound of at least three werewolves racing towards them reaches Derek's ears. 

"Derek!" Isaac calls as soon as he races around the corner at the end of the hall, Jackson and Scott right behind him, and Derek lets out a breath as he moves away from the wall, pulling Stiles with him. The five of them form a tight circle and Derek takes a moment to appraise them all for wounds before he demands to know where the others are.

Scott barely gets two words out before Jackson is letting out a howl and slamming him to the ground, yelling at the other three to do the same. Derek takes a second to be confused before he looks up in time to see a pair of yellow _omega_ eyes getting closer and he pushes Isaac out of the way and lunges at Stiles.

"Move!" he cries right as he shoulder barges the human, completely determined to not let him get hurt because if there was one thing Derek couldn't live with it'd be Stiles's _death_ on his hands, which thankfully makes Stiles smash into the pile of Jackson and Scott.

Unfortunately it also leaves Derek in the perfect position for the omega's attack.

He isn't quite prepared for the _arm_ that's rammed right through his midriff.

* * *

****_Admit that you love him._ ** **

* * *

"That was impressive, Derek," and Derek hates that voice. He hates a lot of things. But that voice grinds him to the bone.

"Come to 'sass' me?" he snaps as he looks up from the book lying in his lap to look at his Uncle perched at the window. Peter just smiles, shaking his head as he runs his fingers over the windowsill before looking up.

"White?" he asks, and Derek's stomach lurches, "you never liked white, Derek. You always made fun of Laura for her white furniture."

Derek chooses to ignore him and returns to his book, shifting slightly in his seat. He's still tender from the whole 'arm-through-the-stomach' incident a few days ago. Peter sighs from across the room before he wanders closer, seating himself down on the armrest at the other end of the couch as he watches Derek.

He tries not to let his Uncle's gaze make him feel uncomfortable.

"I heard what you did in the distillery," Peter finally comments after an awkward silence, "that was a great sacrifice for a human." He reaches over and taps Derek's midriff, "you could've died."

"But I didn't."

"The point remains that you could've."

Derek groans and slams the book shut, watching as Peter flinches at the crack the hardcover makes. "What do you want, Peter?" he snarls.

"It's _Uncle_ Peter to you," Peter chuckles and Derek's convinced he's actually raising a hand to ruffle his hair, much like he used to before the fire, and he tries not to think that _maybe_ he wouldn't mind it. " _And_ ," the extra emphasis pulls Derek out of his thoughts, "I want to know why you did it."

"I wasn't going to let him die."

"People don't just throw themselves into a situation where _death_ is on the line, Derek."

He huffs and ignores Peter, turning his attention to his book, cracking it back open and locating his page. He can hear Peter sighing, hear him wandering back over to the window and he fights back the urge to ask him stay.

He doesn't need company _that_ much.

"Have you ever considered the idea of love?"

Derek snorts and looks up at his Uncle, his eyebrow raised and face arranged into a disbelieving expression. "Love?" he asks, and Peter nods looking curious, "what is love, Peter?"

"What is it to you?"

Derek thinks about it, thinks about his love for his sister, his love for his family, the ruins of his house, the property he once played on, the toys he used to cuddle, for his car and for his memories of everyone he once knew. He thinks about his pack, about the love he has for Isaac and the love he has for Jackson and how different they both are, he thinks about the love he might have for Stiles but he pushes that thought away because that's not _love_. He thinks about the definition of love, he thinks about movies and books and plays that portray the ideas of love, and he compares them all before he looks back at his Uncle.

"I don't know."

Peter just smiles sadly. "Yes, you do," he whispers before he slips out the window and is gone. 

* * *

**_And I know that you do._ **

* * *

It's Christmas, and Derek tries not to think about it.

Christmas is a time for family and friends, a time for celebration and joy, time for warmth and comfort and _happiness_. Laura had always said that everyone deserved happiness.

Derek's not 'everyone'.

He goes to the party that Stiles asks him to attend. He doesn't want to disappoint his pack, and even if he doesn't want to admit it he doesn't want to disappoint Stiles either. He may be broken, he may be confused and scarred and unable to function with emotions like a normal human being, but he's finally coming to terms with the fact that his pack is in fact filled with teenagers, teenagers who need someone to look up to.

But even though he knows they'll all grow up one day and not need him, and they'll realise what a mess he is, he's prepared himself to at least try for them in the meantime. 

What he's not prepared for though is the sudden music change to a slow dance and they're pairing up, Jackson and Lydia, Scott and Allison, Boyd and Erica, even Danny and Isaac. 

And he sees Stiles watching him, appraising him with his eyes, and Derek knows that if he asks, if he wants Stiles to dance with him, the kid will, he'll all but jump at the chance and he'll put as much gusto into slow dancing as he does with everything and he'll somehow screw it up.

Derek knows he'll enjoy it, knows he'll enjoy Stiles and he'll be _happy_.

That's why he firmly shakes his head, downs his drink and makes excuses to leave.

He can't do this. He refuses to.

* * *

****_Despite all your efforts to never let another heart touch yours._ ** **

* * *

He avoids them after Christmas. 

He ignores Isaac every time the kid turns up, even when he lets himself in. He doesn't acknowledge him past a few grunts and refuses to hug him back or return _any_ affection that Isaac always gives. He knows the kid is hurt, he can _smell_ it on him and he feels bad, feels terrible. He hates himself for it but he doesn't want to get close. He can't.

He brushes off Erica, even going to the extent of ignoring her completely. She yells at him, screams, throws things, tries to get some attention besides the occasional glares but he gives her nothing. 

He can't do anything to Boyd, he finds. The kid just walks in and settles beside him, lifting his own book to read and they sit in silence, only breaking it to turn pages. He refuses to think its bonding, they don't even _speak_ , and he knows that, despite his reluctance to get close to any of them, he can't turn away Boyd. Boyd, who just doesn't want to sit alone anymore.

He doesn't even have to try for Jackson, the kid who already refuses to be anything to him, and as soon as he realises that Derek's ignoring them all outside of training sessions he latches on to the excuse to avoid him altogether.

Scott never happened in the first place. Allison, Danny, Lydia, they're humans. It's easy.

Stiles is the hardest. The kid who refuses to listen to his angry growls, the kid who wanders in to make him food in the cold silence of the loft, the kid who refuses to leave until he's eaten everything he has served him, the kid who _doesn't get it_. He chats to him, telling him all about his day in one great long ramble and Derek's never wanted to hit someone as much as he wants to hit Stiles.

He's never wanted to hug someone either. Not like this.

But Stiles eventually gets it, eventually understands that Derek doesn't want him.

 _Can't_ want him. 

* * *

****_That’s assuming, of course you have one._ ** **

* * *

Deucalion is psychotic, he decides as he makes his way through Beacon Hills cemetery to where he can see him standing stoically at the tree line, his other Alpha Pack members lined up on either side of him. 

What kind of meeting place is a cemetery?

He sighs, thinking of just what he's getting into as he keeps walking, pausing once to glare down at _her_ grave, and he sends out a silent thank you to Peter despite the fact he still wishes he'd been the one to rip out her throat, before he comes to a halt in front of Deucalion.

A simple incline of his head is the only greeting he offers before he silently listens to him. Listens to him talk about the greatness of his pack, about how much better it would be if Derek joined, or if Scott joined, hell if they _both_ joined. He talks about how wonderfully powerful Derek would be, how he would no longer have to rely on humans or weak betas.

"At what cost?" he asks, watching the other four shift on their feet as they watch their leader smile.

"You have to kill your pack," Deucalion's heartbeat doesn't even skip, and Derek finds it sickening how this man can just ask him to kill his.. his pack. "Everyone else has," he continues waving at the other four, "hell, Kali massacred everyone she loved, including her fiancee."

"And if I say no?" 

"I'd be impressed," and the man sounds genuine, "I mean, we'd have to show you just what you're missing, probably leave you incapacitated, but I would be impressed for a man such as _you_ , Derek, to turn down this amount of power."

He watches him cautiously, and he thinks about his pack, about how happy they all seem with one another. He thinks about Stiles, thinks about the kid's brilliant smile, his eagerness to please, his kindness and all round love for _everyone_.

He says no.

" _for the pack for the pack for Stiles_ " is all he has time to think before they descend on him. 

* * *

**_That little persistent kid has somehow gotten in under the wire._ **

* * *

"Derek! Derek! Open up!"

He squeezes his eyes shut and refuses to acknowledge the kid beating on the door to Laura's room. He ignores the wind whistling over the destroyed roof, ignores the swearing and yelling, ignores the jarring movement of the door against his back as Stiles pounds it with his fist.

He ignores it all and closes his eyes, desperately willing himself to not choke up. 

He hates that he ended up fleeing his loft. He hates that he didn't heal fast enough from Deucalion's attack _days_ and _days_ ago, but they were all Alpha attacks and they last longer and not for the first time does Derek wonder just what the hell he's doing with his life. He hates that the pack had apparently congregated when he'd been sleeping last night. He hates that he was literally beaten senseless so he wasn't able to notice them until he was standing in front of them, broken and bruised with their wide horrified eyes staring at him. He hates that he ran.

He hates that Stiles followed.

"Please, Derek, open the door."

"Go away," he chokes out, his throat sore and scratchy and, from the hitched breath on the other side and the stuttered heart beat, he knows Stiles can hear him.

"No, I won't," and Derek wants to scream because can't the kid just _get a hint_ , "I won't go because you need me."

"I don't need anyone."

"That's what you think."

Derek tries not to find comfort as, what sounds like Stiles' back, hits the door before he slides down on the other side, mirroring Derek's own position. But he fails and instead tilts his head back to rest against the door, his arms wrapping around his knees.

"Go away," he whispers once more, loud enough to be heard, but Stiles just lets out a humourless laugh.

"Not a chance." 

* * *

**_Admit the truth._ **

* * *

He's sitting in the lounge of the Stilinski household, said Stilinski's in the kitchen talking in not quite low enough tones for him not hear, when Peter turns up, slipping through the lounge window and sitting beside him.

"So, Deucalion this time? Do you like the idea of dying, Derek?" he asks, his voice quiet and… hurt. 

"No."

"Lying has never been your strong point."

Derek snorts and turns to look at his Uncle, raising an eyebrow. "It's not like I don't entertain the thought, but I don't willingly seek out life or death situations."

Peter gives a short laugh and shakes his head, "and why should I believe you?"

"Because its the truth!"

"Derek," and Peter's hands are on either side of his face, holding it still as he stares him, "Derek, ever since Paige you've always hidden from the truth of things. You might believe it to be the truth, but maybe it's not."

Derek looks back for a long moment, blinking slowly before he pulls way from his Uncle's hands, ignoring the wounded look he receives. "That doesn't make any sense," he snaps and turns to look away only to freeze when he sees Stiles standing with his father in the doorway.

"Yeah, Derek," the kid mummers, "it really does. You might not think you're looking for threats, but your actions prove otherwise."

And despite his affection for the kid, despite everything he feels for him, Derek finds an overwhelming amount of anger aimed at Stiles as he gets up, glaring at them all. "I don't need to hear all this bullshit from you," he snaps, "any of you," and he turns on his heel to storm out of the room, brushing past the Stilinski's.

He's stopped briefly by the Sheriff, the man placing a hand on his elbow and tugging him around to face him. "Derek," he starts and Derek has to close his eyes and focus on his breathing because it's such a _fatherly_ tone, "I know you feel alone. And I know you think that we're being ridiculous in assuming that we know what you feel, but we can help you," he smiles kindly, " _Stiles_ can help you."

If Derek decides to stay, he knows he'll find comfort in the Stilinski's. No doubt. Stiles would be at his beck and call, literally, and the Sheriff would sit him down and just _talk_ to him, treat him like a human being, pretend that nothing is wrong if Derek wants it to be that way.

Derek doesn't stay.

* * *

**_You love him, don’t you?_ **

* * *

"Scott!" he screams, because Scott won't listen to anything that's not a desperate needy scream from him anymore, "Scott! We need to get the humans out of here!"

"Oh yeah, because the werewolves don't matter," Jackson snaps from Derek's left and Derek has to hold back a snort as Stiles reaches forward and smacks Jackson over the back of the head while muttering "shut up lizard-breath".

There's no reply though from Scott, and Derek trusts Isaac and Jackson to watch his front as he turns around, craning his neck, to look over the four humans huddled in the circle the pack of wolves had formed around them, and seeing Scott looking around for what he hoped was an escape route. He must've felt Derek's gaze though as he turns his head to meet it and jerks his head in the direction of a rusted steel grating half hanging off the wall of the rundown factory.

He's distracted for a moment by a pained yowl and he glances over to see Boyd whimpering as he holds his wrist to his chest while Scott lunges forward and rips out the throat of the beta that'd attacked him. He swears to himself before glancing back to the grating, noting it's on the outside wall and if they can just get the humans _at least_ to it then hopefully they'll be able to slide out, get in Stiles jeep and _drive the hell away_.

Why did the stupid humans have to come with them to face the rouge pack anyway? 

Derek forces the thought to the back of his head before he's turning to glance back at Scott, nodding his head when he gets his attention before muttering to the others in what he hopes is a low enough tone that their attackers can't pick up. There's murmurs of an agreement and another nod exchanged between Derek and Scott before Scott begins to slowly count down from five.

Derek's eyes lock with Stiles, and he cringes at how the kid looks so brave but the stench of fear is all but flowing from him. He offers a reassuring smile, one that he hopes says something like "I'll get you out of here" before Stiles is reaching forward and squeezing his elbow with a timid smile, just as Scott lands on one.

It all seems to happen at once.

They break from formation, Scott and Isaac grab the humans and all but fling them towards the steel grating as they ignore their screeching replies, Jackson and Boyd throw themselves towards the group of four rouge betas with Erica snarling behind them as backup and Derek lunges at the Alpha observing from the sidelines.

"Hello, Derek," he says with a flash of glinting teeth before he roars and attacks him, hands flying out to catch his arm and unbalance him. Derek swears but sidesteps away from the second swipe and drops forward to shove his shoulder up under the Alpha's ribcage, hearing the grunt of pain before he slams his claws into the Alpha's side and rips out what feels like some sort of important organ. 

He drops to his knees, coughing up blood as his body starts to shut down, and Derek snorts at how ridiculously easy that was as he throws the hunk of _something_ to the side before he hears the sound of thumping feet and he turns to intercept one of the rouge betas, catching her flying leg and twisting, sending her to the floor before pouncing, his claws flying. 

She's a better fighter, he realises, as she evades his swipes and kicks him across the room, a grunt leaving his mouth as he slams into a nearby crate and feels splintered wood dig into his back. He rolls to his feet and dodges her kick, diving to the side and grinning up at a bloodied Jackson who brings his claws down on the beta's head right as Derek swipes Jackson's own attacker's feet out from under him and follows up by ripping his throat out with one quick swipe.

Him and Jackson exchange brief nods before turning back to look at the others, seeing Danny and Allison missing with Lydia half in the grating and Isaac helping her, Erica, Boyd and Scott all tag-teaming the last two beta and Stiles standing just off to the side of the grating, observing all three little groups.

A sudden movement behind the kid gets Derek's attention, and he barely has time to cry out a warning before his heart is in his throat and he watches the fifth beta, the one they'd thought they'd lost ages ago, shoot Derek a sick grin before he whirls the human around and slams his clawed hands into Stiles' soft belly.

Derek can't stop the hitched gasp in his throat.

Suddenly Isaac is beside the beta, his eyes glinting as he reaches out and snaps his neck with a quick flick, but Derek doesn't care as he sprints towards a collapsed Stiles, his voice already falling into tirade of "no no nonononono _nonono Stiles_!" as his trembling hands reach out and rip Stiles' shirt open, staring in horror at the wound bubbling up with thick red blood, a wound that he's completely unsure of as he shoves his palms flat on it, applying pressure and wincing at Stiles' pained gasps.

"S-Shit," the kid chokes out, and Derek wants to sob at the sound of his voice, "that-that hurts."

"Yeah, yeah Stiles, I know," Derek finds himself replying and he can feel the others surrounding him, Isaac dropping to his knees and placing his hands over Derek's blood stained ones, but he just doesn't care as he sees Stiles' eyes staring to slip closed, panic quickly building in his chest. "I need you to do me a favour though okay? Can you do something for me, Stiles?" he asks, leaning forward until his face is directly over the kid's, "Stiles?"

"Yeah, Derek," and Stiles smiles brightly at him before a frown comes over his face as he looks down, "it hurts."

"I know, Stiles, I know. But I need you to keep your eyes open, please? Can you do that?" and behind him he can hear Scott all but screaming into a phone but he blocks it out as he watches Stiles raise a hand and go to prod the gushing wound, "Stiles, answer me," he sobs, his breath and voice catching in his throat as he reaches out and grabs Stiles hand, squeezing it tightly.

"Hmmm….m'kay…" Stiles slurs as his head rolls back to look up at Derek, "anything for you, Der-Bear," he says sweetly with a sort of dopey smile right before his eyes slip shut and he goes limp.

"Stiles?" Derek chokes as his eyes go wide and his whole body starts shaking, "Stiles? Stiles! Answer me! Stiles!"

He fights against Isaac's hold as he sobs, reaching forward with a violently shaking hand to try wake Stiles up. He knows he's alive, he can _hear_ the faint heartbeat and he swears its not the blood thumping in his ears, but Isaac is pulling him into a tight hug as suddenly Boyd and Jackson are on either side of Stiles, listening to Scott as he barks orders and directions at them.

Derek sinks into Isaac's hold when they lift him up and rush him from the room, his eyes trailing them the whole way as Isaac hushes him quietly. He feels his chest tighten, his head thumping madly as his breaths come out in short pants.

He feels broken, watching Stiles limp body being taken from the room.

Completely shattered. 

* * *

**_I thought so._ **

* * *

"You love my son, don't you."

Derek's surprised the man is even talking to him as he once again sits in the Stilinski's lounge, listening to Stiles rummaging around in his room upstairs trying to find something. He glances up to look at the Sheriff though, meeting the man's eyes with his own wide ones and he opens his mouth, not sure if he's to deny or accept the man's statement when the Sheriff just holds up a hand.

"It's not a question, son," he sighs and Derek instantly snaps his mouth shut, "my question is, why haven't you told him?"

"I…" Derek has to stop for a minute before he drops his gaze to his hands, "it's for his own good, sir."

"The hell it is," the Sheriff snaps and Derek looks up with even wider eyes to see him leaning forward and staring intently a Derek, making him swallow. "This is the first time in a long time I've actually see Stiles _happy_. And who the hell are we to deny the kid a shot at happiness?"

Derek wants to argue, wants to point out that less than a fortnight ago Stiles had been dragged through the hospital with bad bleeding, both internal and external, and was practically on Death's door for five of the twelve days he'd spent confined to that hospital bed. All because _Derek_ had failed to protect him. He wants to point out just how screwed up he himself is, wants to tell the Sheriff that he's the last person he'll want his son to date because somehow he knows he's going to screw it up, but he has no chance to say anything as the Sheriff gets up and places a hand on Derek's shoulder.

"You never once left his side, Derek. You held his hand, you talked to him, you attended to almost each and everyone of his whims. Don't bullshit me with any 'he doesn't deserve me' crap, because if there's anyone Stiles deserves it's someone like you," and he leans down to smile at Derek, "someone loyal and someone that makes him happy."

"And if there's anything that you deserve, Derek" a new voice rings out and both men jump until they see none other than Peter leaning against the door to the kitchen, smiling at them, "it's someone that can bring you happiness."

Derek watches them both, watches the way the Sheriff raises an eyebrow at Peter before turning back to give him a resolute nod, and watches the way Peter just gives him an encouraging smile and a thumbs up.

"Okay," he finally breaths out, giving both his Uncle and the Sheriff a small shy smile as he slowly stands up, "okay then."

The two others laugh before the Sheriff claps him on the arm and points to the stairs, "go get 'im, son."

He does.

* * *

**_Then tell him._ **

* * *

"I love you." 

Stiles grins.

"About time, Sourwolf." 

**Author's Note:**

> I like to imagine it is the Sheriff who does the monologue, but that probably doesn't fit but it does kinda fit Peter.
> 
> Maybe it was a joint effort :)
> 
> Bolded monologue pieces is a quote from Queer as Folk, with which I've started watching and Justin/Brian yesyesyes.
> 
>  
> 
> [the feels are strong in this one](http://resacon1990.tumblr.com/)


End file.
